


A Study In Sweetness

by HiddenLacuna



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 221ABC, A hell of a lot of bees gave their lives for this, Apples, Gen, Honey, If it takes one bee a lifetime to make a teaspoon of honey, Judaism, More Honey, Poor bees, Remix, Rosh Hashanah, Seriously where is all this honey coming from, Still More Honey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2015-10-06
Packaged: 2018-04-25 02:22:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4943029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenLacuna/pseuds/HiddenLacuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock attend Rosh Hashanah dinner at Greg and Deborah’s. There is far too much honey, but nobody minds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Study In Sweetness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tiltedsyllogism](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiltedsyllogism/gifts).
  * Inspired by [A Study in Potato Pancakes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3280280) by [tiltedsyllogism](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiltedsyllogism/pseuds/tiltedsyllogism). 



> A remix of TiltedSyllogism's sweet, lovely 221ABC about Hannukkah. I remixed the story by jumping us forward in time by nine months, to Rosh Hashanah (Jewish New Year). There are still apples, and sweet things, and bickering, and spending time with the family you make to celebrate life's milestones.
> 
> Betaed with aplomb by the fabulous PipMer, who helped to keep me from spinning off-track.

John no longer questioned oddity in the flat beyond wondering what SORT of case it was this time. Murder, theft, fraud - remix as appropriate. So it was with slightly amused, slightly horrified curiosity that he arrived home one afternoon and gazed around at the literally dozens of jars of honey suddenly covering every surface. Sunflower, buckwheat, clover, leatherflower, pine, saffron, a piece of honeycomb in a shallow tub… the only constant seemed to be that every kind was made by wild bees. No squeezy plastic bears in sight. Perhaps a pollen test? Could you murder someone allergic to a certain plant by feeding them honey made by bees fed on its flowers? 

The door slammed shut below, and Sherlock came bounding up the stairs, laden with several bulging shopping bags. “Good god, Sherlock, not _more_ honey?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Obviously not. You asked if we could bring anything tonight. Deborah asked for the apples and honey. You’d clearly forgotten and I didn’t know what kind would be best, so…”

John slapped his forehead. He’d completely forgotten they were due at Greg and Deborah’s for Rosh Hashanah dinner. “Thank you,” he said, gratefully. “Anything I can do to help?”

Sherlock handed him the bags, which turned out to be full of apples, and nodded his head towards the sink. “Early atonement?”

***

Sherlock had tasted his way through 27 jars before disappearing to have a glass of water and a lie-down while John finished washing what frankly seemed to be an unreasonable amount of apples. “You do know there will be other food there, Sherlock,” he called towards the bedroom. Silence. He wondered whether he could bring some to the clinic, or whether the patients would see them as a pointed, if tardy, message about not getting your daily serving of doctor repellent. 

John selected four of the most interesting-looking unopened honey jars and put them with a dozen of the nicest of the apples, ready by the door. At precisely the last moment before they’d certainly be late, Sherlock came gliding out of the bedroom, looking as put together as possible for someone mildly overwhelmed by fructose, and clattered down the stairs to hail a cab. John sighed, picked up the heavy bag, and followed.

By a miracle of cooperative traffic, they arrived on time, and were greeted with handshakes from Lestrade and kisses on the cheek from Deborah. John handed her the bag of fruit and honey, explaining “Sherlock wanted you to have some options.” Deborah exclaimed in politely bewildered delight as she removed what had mysteriously become nine jars of honey, and went to the kitchen to find extra serving bowls.

***

John elbowed Sherlock surreptitiously in the ribs as soon as Lestrade had busied himself with slicing apples. “How did you even do that? You never went near the bag!” he demanded, in a low voice. 

Sherlock winked. “Can’t reveal all my secrets, John. Besides, it’s not as though it will go off. She’ll be stocked all year.”

“Stocked for the next five years is more like it,” John grumbled, completely unable to stop the grin from rising to his face. Sherlock’s answering smile was easy and unguarded, if slightly smug. The cat who’d got the cream. Or maybe the bee who’d got the honey. 

Deborah returned with a stack of pretty blue glass bowls, and set John and Sherlock to pouring honey into each one. Sherlock wiped the last drop from the lip of his jars with a finger and licked the honey away with an expression of faraway consideration. Lestrade returned with the sliced apples and set them at the centre of the table, while Deborah opened a bottle of wine and poured everyone a glass.

“I’m so glad you could join us,” she said. “L’shana tova! Please, let’s begin - the apples and honey are wishes for a sweet new year, and you’ve certainly ensured that 5776 will be wonderful.”

“Happy new year, Sherlock,” said John. “Pass the challah.”


End file.
